Wanderer
by EmberSkies
Summary: "My name is Runi, and I plan on shaping my own destiny." A young girl, also a powerful magician, finds herself allied with a misunderstood assassin and a teenage boy who plans to change the world. Takes place during the Adventures of Sinbad anime/manga.
1. A Traveler Lost

_"No one saves us but ourselves. No one can and no one may. We ourselves must walk the path._

 _~Buddha_

* * *

 _Chapter One_

 _The Traveler and the Lost_

She was five when she became a murderer.

Runi tried not to dwell on it too much.

* * *

 _It was nearly dark, and their torch light flickered and died. Wisps of smoke fluttered away, and Runi reluctantly tore her eyes away when Nefer-nee took her hand, walking faster. They'd gone grocery shopping. A loaf of bread, and some fruit. To them it was a feast._

 _They were barely ten blocks away from home when she tripped and fell sideways, and everything went downhill from there. She remembered the sensation of Nefer-nee's hand slipping out of hers as rougher hands took her by the shoulders, dragging her back. They'd pushed Nefer-nee against a wall, and leaned in real close._

 _Nefer-nee had screamed, and Runi saw red._

* * *

 _She'd sunk into some unknown depth of her consciousness. Anger rushed forth, along with fear, desperation, and power. Pure power._

 _Runi snapped._

* * *

 _There was a scream. A spray of blood._

 _When she opened her eyes, the bad men were dead._

 _Nefer-nee wouldn't look at her._

* * *

Nefertiti was dead now.

Runi's older sister, her precious person, dead. She'd perished years ago, along with half their village, one particularly bad winter.

Runi wasn't affected physically by the cold, though. Only psychologically.

It was frigid tonight. The paths were frozen. It was a good thing she couldn't freeze to death, though. That would prove rather problematic, seeing as she had no place to go at the moment.

 _Monster._

 _Murderer._

 _You're better off dead, freak._

They'd said worse to her. Much, much worse. But Runi couldn't bring herself to care. There was only one person in the world whose opinion Runi cared about, and that person was dead.

 _Runi… did you do this?_

 _Nefer-nee…_ She'd broken down sobbing, rushing towards Nefer-nee's open arms. Nefertiti backed away, eyeing blood-splattered Runi with an expression Runi couldn't identify.

She knew it now, though.

 _I'm sorry, Nefer-nee. I'm sorry!_

It was fear.

Runi curled up beneath an abandoned fruit vendor's stall, lying on pillows of snow and sheets of ice. She closed her eyes, searched out the Power in her mind (she'd named her ability, sometime long ago) and materialized another blanket of snow to cover her up.

The cold embrace felt comforting, and if she tried hard enough, she could imagine it was Nefer-nee's arms wrapped around her instead.

Runi cried herself to sleep.

* * *

When she woke, Runi was not alone. She wasn't buried in her pile of snow, either.

"Are you all right?" Runi's head snapped up, only to meet the eyes of a kind-eyed stranger sitting in a chair by her bed—wait, since when did she have a bed? Bewildered, Runi took another moment, drinking in the sights and sounds of the room she was in. A fireplace blazed in the corner, barricaded by stone. The walls were wooden, and sunlight filtered in from a window high above her head.

Runi was young, but she'd learned the hard way already not to trust strangers. "Who are you?"

The stranger only smiled. "Call me Yunan." He had long fair hair underneath his strange, black pointy hat, and calm blue eyes.

"Why did you take me here?" Was he some sort of slave trader? Why would he kidnap her? Or maybe he hadn't kidnapped her. Maybe he'd seen her in the snow and pitied her—no, that was impossible, she was a _monster—_

"Calm down. It's all right, little one. Don't worry." His voice had this calming sincerity, and suddenly, in her mind's eye, little white birds began to flutter around him. Runi stared, enraptured.

Yunan looked pleased. "You can see them?" He held out a slim, pale hand, allowing one of the birds to land on his outstretched pointer finger. "They're called Rukh."

"Rukh…" She tested out the word, liking the sound. Runi laughed as one landed on her shoulder. "They're beautiful!"

"Indeed." Yunan smiled. "How old are you, Runi?"

Runi frowned for a moment, deep in thought. "Nine... I think. Maybe ten."

"When is your birthday?"

"January second." That, at least, she knew. Nefer-nee had drilled her birth date into her at a young age.

"It's January twentieth now." Yunan smiled at her again, though worry was ever present in his gaze. The Rukh around him fluttered about, distressed.

Ah. So she _was_ ten. Time flew when you were homeless, she surmised.

(Actually, it passed agonizingly slowly in the beginning. It was only when you stopped caring that you lost track of time.)

"Here, have some broth." Yunan might as well have handed her a pot filled with pure gold. Stolen fruit be damned, Runi couldn't remember the last time she'd smelled something so delicious. Even the fruit pie she'd snagged from some unsuspecting baker didn't compare. Runi wolfed it down.

"How long have you been on your own?" Yunan asked, not unkindly. Some part of Runi reminded her to be cautious, but after years of living on next to nothing, anyone who gave her food immediately gained her trust.

"I dunno." She said through a mouthful of broth. "Two years. . . I think. It's hard to keep track."

"I see." The smile in his eyes faded, but Yunan's voice remained soft and gentle. "The winters can be brutal. I commend you for surviving."

Runi's gaze hardened and she slowly lowered the broth from her lips. The question hadn't been asked directly, but it was still implied. _How have you survived the cold?_

He didn't know, she realized. He didn't know who she was. He didn't know she was a murderer. Runi trembled; she couldn't bring herself to tell him. It was so selfish, considering how he'd been kind to her. He'd kick her out, and Runi would be alone again.

"It's okay." Yunan's voice was kind, encouraging her. "If something's bothering you, you can tell me."

Runi broke down, sobbing and shuddering violently. Yunan rubbed her back comfortingly, and absently she wondered if that was how a father would act. Finally, she calmed down enough to look him in the eye and speak rationally.

Runi told him everything. Well, almost everything.

First, she told him about Nefer-nee. She told him of the Power, lurking deep within her mind and giving her access to create snow and ice at will. It scared her, because the Power was this dangerous monster she couldn't control, rearing it's ugly head at her wildest emotions. Only now had she somewhat been able to control it. Runi told him how the villagers called her a monster, how Nefer-nee had passed away. Memories blurred after Nefer-nee's passing. Nothing had seemed important after that.

Yunan was silent for a while. Finally, he addressed her directly. "How long have you been able to manifest this Power?"

Runi hesitated. "I… Years ago, I did something bad. With my power. That was when it awakened."

Yunan raised a fair eyebrow at her choice of words, expression indecipherable. "Awakened… How bad was this 'something bad'?"

Runi scowled, hiding her face. If she looked up, she'd probably cry again. "Pretty bad."

"I see." Yunan turned to look her in the eye. "Runi, you are not a monster. You are a magician."

He took a moment to let this sink in. Runi blinked, taken aback. "What?"

"This power of yours you speak of… it is magic. You are also very powerful. Most magicians can barely cast magic without use of a staff. The fact that you can, and to this level…" Yunan looked troubled.

Runi formed a snowflake, and let it dance around her fingers. "What am I supposed to do?"

Yunan was pleasantly surprised at her calm, rational tone. "For now, I will teach you. However, I cannot tutor you in the ways of magic forever. There is only so much I can teach you."

"Are you a magician too, Yunan-san?"

Yunan turned away so she wouldn't see his nostalgic smile. "Of a sort."

The Rukh began to gather around him, forming a halo of light. Runi gazed at him in wonder. "Who _are_ you?"

"An immortal traveler." Yunan smiled again, and offered her his hand. "Come along, child. You have much to learn, if I am to be your teacher."

She wasn't a freak. Not only that, but she had a teacher. A real teacher, who would teach her to control the Power. Runi bowed, trying valiantly to push down her enthusiasm in favor of scholarly respect. "I will not disappoint you, Yunan-sensei!"

Yunan dipped his head. "I'm sure you will not."

* * *

" _Her destiny is intertwined with that of the Miracle Child."_

 _Yunan looked up, mildly interested. "Is that so?"_

" _Yes. Theirs is not a romantic bond, but both will grow to be very powerful."_

" _But will they fall to the dark Rukh in the process? The lure of power can be tempting."_

" _That is true. But only time will tell."_

 _There was a fleeting image of a king, with flowing violet hair. Beside him stood a crimson-haired woman, snowflakes falling around her. Behind them stood more; a swordsman, another magician, a white-haired assassin in docile off-white robes._

" _I look forward to their growth." Yunan mused._

" _As do I."_

* * *

 **Honorifics used in this chapter:**

 **-nee: Older sister (i.e. Nefer-nee)**

 **-san: A respectful suffix denoting that the person being spoken to is of equal or nearly equal social status. (i.e. Yunan-san)**

 **-sensei: Teacher (i.e. Yunan-sensei)**

 **A/N: The story will loosely follow the** _ **Adventures of Sinbad/Sinbad no Bouken**_ **plot, but will deviate after the ending of the SnB anime to accommodate characters like Yamuraiha and Sharrkan. And Ja'far. Oh, Ja'far.**

 **By the way, Runi's name means 'secret lore'. Nefertiti's name means 'beautiful', and is the name of a famous Egyptian queen.**

 **Keep an eye out for Chapter Two!**

 **~Ember**


	2. Patricians and Plebeians

_Without feelings of respect, what is there to distinguish men from beasts?_

 _~Confucius_

* * *

 _Chapter Two_

 _Patricians_ _and_ _Plebeians_

 _Two Years Later_

To this day, Runi still couldn't comprehend her teacher's love for barrels.

Sure, two years under his tutelage had taught her that Yunan preferred solitude, tranquil darkness and silence. It completely contradicted his love of traveling, but Runi let it slide. There was still much about her teacher that Runi didn't know. She was okay with that. . . to some extent. Runi would uncover those mysteries on her own later.

But spending two days straight in the back of a wagon, cramped in a barrel? No, thank you. Runi had refused Yunan's request in the most respectful way she could. It was fine with her if he planned to hide in a barrel, but Runi had people to meet. Places to see.

Surprisingly, Yunan agreed. "Very well. Practice your meditation, and stay out of sight. Don't leave the wagon without letting me know first, okay? Bye~!" And with that, he climbed inside his barrel, shut the lid, and was silent.

They rode for a few minutes.

Runi tentatively broke the silence. "Yunan-sensei? How long will we travel like this?"

Yunan didn't answer. In fact, his barrel didn't even twitch.

It took all of Runi's etiquette lessons and self control not to groan and flop down, defeated, on the floor. Instead, she curled up against the wall, maintaining her ladylike dignity. Her eyelids fluttered and began to close, the rhythmic bumping of the wagon lulling her to sleep. _Maybe I'll just take a nap. . ._

* * *

The wagon was brought to an abrupt, jerky stop, and Runi startled into wakefulness. Sounds of a scuffle could be heard outside, and a woman's scream shocked her out of her bleary state and into full alertness.

Runi jumped up, only to realize there was no window to spectate from. Besides, she had no idea if she could take on these attackers, even if it was for the good of innocents.

The women's screams abruptly ceased, and Runi heard the sickening crack of a nose breaking. A man howled in pain. A moment later, another man shrieked, and Runi winced as she recognized the sound of a well-placed attack. Someone else, it seemed, had joined the fray.

The skirmish ended quickly, with the sound of many people dropping to the ground at once. Either the newcomer had performed a spectacular simultaneous attack, or the remaining attackers had compromised with an impromptu surrender.

There were murmured voices outside, and footsteps headed for the wagon. What had just happened? Were they about to start moving again? There was a soft thud as someone hooked their hand around the door handle and pulled it open, giving access to the back of the wagon. Bright sunlight filtered through to warm both Runi and the barrels, and Runi had to blink a few times to adjust her eyes to the bright light before meeting the gaze of the women gaping at her from behind the door. A child's face poked out to look at her, and a teenager with vibrant purple hair leaned in to eye her curiously.

Well then. Runi sighed, taking a deep breath and preparing herself to talk her way out of this predicament. Yunan, however, beat her to the punch. "Runi, have we stopped? What's all this commotion?" He paused halfway in lifting the barrel lid to stare back at the purple haired teenager and the other women, before slamming the lid down with a huff. "Well, don't just open it without asking! I'm trying to meditate here!"

* * *

"Thank you for your hospitality." The purple haired teenager, apparently named Sinbad, had actually been quite kind in taking them to his house and feeding them broth. He'd left to run some errands, so Yunan and Runi were left with his mother.

"Oh, no, it's fine!" Sinbad's mother waved off Runi's formality, smiling warmly at the young girl. "We're happy to help. Besides, I enjoy company."

Yunan began to talk softly with her, too softly for Runi to hear. Eventually, he looked at her, waving his hand. "Feel free to explore, Runi. Just return by sundown." It was as much an invitation as it was a dismissal.

Runi took the cue. With a flourish of her black cloak, she left.

"She seems like a nice girl." Sinbad's mother smiled softly.

Yunan nodded. "She is." He took another sip of broth. "I fear for her, though. She is stronger than she believes, and great things lie ahead of her. I only hope to guide her in the right direction."

Sinbad's mother nodded empathetically. "That sounds like my Sinbad. He has so much potential, and he's stuck here caring for me. I feel like an invalid," she confessed.

"My husband once told me not to fear destiny, but to ride it, like waves. He was a sailor."

"Where is he now?" Yunan asked.

A single tear dripped down Sinbad's mother's cheek. "He was drafted by the Partevian royal army. He perished in the Dungeon."

Yunan looked solemn. "You have my condolences."

The sadness lingered on her face a moment more, before it was vanquished in favor of forced cheerfulness. "Now, now. Let's not engage in such depressing talk. Tell me more of your journey, Traveler."

* * *

It only took about ten minutes of wandering around the small Partevian town for Runi to run into Sinbad. Quite literally, in fact.

She'd been watching the sunset, fascinated by the red-orange hues playing across the gently lapping waves washing the banks of the seaside town. It was certainly a nice view to feast her eyes on, though she doubted she could settle down in a town like this. Runi was more suited to traveling. Besides, she hated—well, _strongly disliked_ —seafood.

"Oof!" The breath rushed from Runi's lungs as she ricocheted headfirst into someone's shoulder, a sea of purple hair smacking her in the face. She stumbled back, muttering inaudible apologies.

The other person blinked at her, disoriented. "Oh, sorry, my bad—wait, you're that girl from earlier!"

Runi blinked. Piercing golden eyes swam into view, framed by thick purple eyebrows and hair tied back in a long ponytail. " _Sinbad-san?"_

A charming smile replaced his momentary disorientation. "You can just call me Sinbad."

A moment passed before Runi suddenly remembered her manners. "T-thank you for your hospitality in letting us stay—"

"Oh, no, it's fine!" Sinbad winked flirtatiously at her. "Besides, I couldn't leave a pretty young lady like yourself alone with no place to stay, could I?"

Wait, was he actually flirting with her? That was just _wrong._ This boy was way older than she was. He'd been kind, though, so Runi had to sort through her nastier retorts to offer him a polite one. "Yunan-sensei was with me. I wasn't alone."

"True." Sinbad abandoned his amorous expression for a curious one. "So, are you really a magician?"

Runi nearly did a spit take. "What makes you say that?" She asked carefully.

"Yunan mentioned it earlier." Sinbad plucked an apple from his pocket and bit into it. "Remember?"

Oh, yes, that was right. Runi felt quite stupid now. "Yes, I am." She materialized a snowflake and let it dance around her fingers to demonstrate.

Sinbad gasped, amazed. "That's so cool! What else can you do?"

Runi hid a smile. "Many things."

Sinbad looked at her, unintentionally giving her puppy eyes. "Show me?"

Oh my, he looked like a child in a cupcakery. Sinbad's expressive eyes bore into hers, and Runi felt her initial answer of 'no' crumbling away at his pleading glance. Curse those stupid puppy eyes of his. "Maybe."

Sinbad grinned, and Runi almost missed the dark gleam in his eyes. It disappeared in an instant as he returned to his normal cheery self.

Almost.

* * *

Runi made sure not to show him anything important; just some basics. Sinbad laughed as snowflakes descended from a cloud above his head and nestled in his hair. "This is so cool! We never get snow."

"Really?" Runi dangled her bare toes in the water, black slippers discarded beside her. "Where I'm from, we get snow all the time."

"Where are you from?"

Runi shifted uncomfortably. "Some village in northern Partevia. I don't remember the name."

She didn't look at him, but knew already that Sinbad didn't believe her. It wasn't exactly the most believable story, but was actually somewhat true. She knew the name, but it had been pushed so far back into the inner reaches of Runi's mind that she'd almost forgotten.

"Is Yunan a magician too?" Sinbad, who'd been precariously perched on the edge of the docks in a handstand, vaulted over onto a nearby boat.

"I think so." Runi gave a humorless smile. "He's very… _obscure_ about it. About many things, actually."

"Like what?"

Runi hesitated, about to speak, but thought better of it. "We should go."

Sinbad took the cue. "I'll walk you back to my house. It's not too far away." He waited patiently for her to don her black slippers again, and left amidst the torchlit darkness. They both knew Runi was perfectly capable of returning on her own, and defending against any bandits that might jump her from shadowed corners, but neither said a word.

Soon after, when Runi and his mother fell asleep, Sinbad drew a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and looked at it.

 _Sinbad of Tison Village,_

 _You have been drafted for the Partevian Army. You will be escorted to the base of the Dungeon and expected to battle to your death._

 _May Partevia prevail._

 _~Dragul Nol Henrius Govius Menudias Partenuvonomias Dumid Os Kartanon_

 _Commanding Officer_

The Partevian Empire had sent his father, and thousands of others, to their deaths. Sinbad didn't plan to join them.

He cast the letter into the firepit, watching the paper char and burn without a flicker of emotion on his face.

From the woven straw mat in the corner of the room, Yunan watched and waited.

* * *

The next morning, the Partevian army came for him.

Sinbad was both surprised and pleased to discover that his little rebellion had incurred the wrath of the commander himself, Dragul-something-something. Honestly, why even bother with such a long name? Sinbad decided to shorten it to Drakon, if only to do the poor commander a favor.

Dragul Nol Henrius Govius Menudias Partenuvonomias Dumid Os Kartanon (for that was his full name), led the procession himself. He was flanked on both sides by two nobles clad in official-looking attire. Behind them walked two rows of uniformed soldiers, standing at attention.

"Damned aristocrats," a villager sneered.

"Sinbad." Dragul greeted him formally, striding up and coming to a halt a few yards away, looking him squarely in the eyes. "You cannot refuse your drafting forever. This is an order from the Partevian Royal Empire itself."

"What if I say no?" Sinbad glared challengingly. "What if I still refuse?"

Dragul gave a barely perceivable nod, and suddenly the soldiers were on him, beating him to the ground until he was barely conscious. Through hazy vision, Sinbad saw at least three sharpened spear points held to his head. Despite himself, Sinbad couldn't help but feel a twinge of victory. They were afraid of him; he was a wild card, a loose cannon.

"It is your duty to Partevia." Dragul said. "You are a valuable resource for the Partevian army. The rest of your village is merely women and children."

"We aren't livestock." Defiance was clear in Sinbad's eyes, shining through and allowing him to focus on nothing but Dragul's unwavering facade. "We're people. The men in our village aren't here because they were killed needlessly in your _army."_ Sinbad spat out the word like poison. Behind him, the sound of children cheering reinvigorated him, filling him with newfound courage and energy.

"It is your duty." Dragul repeated. With an air of finality, he stepped forth and raised his foot above Sinbad's head threateningly.

"Dragul, stop." One of the nobles called out, flinching when Dragul turned around with a raised eyebrow. "One less soldier won't make too much of a difference, right? We should go…" He trailed off, fidgeting uncomfortably.

Dragul finally sighed. He gave Sinbad a glare that was both burning hot with rage and frigidly emotionless, before about-facing with an air of finality and walking off. The nobles hurried to catch up with him, while the soldiers walked formally in formation.

Sinbad let out a relieved breath, stumbling to his feet and swaying slightly. A few children ran over to help, and he thanked them, grateful for their efforts on his behalf. Towards the back of the crowd, Sinbad caught a glimpse of dark, blood-red hair, and saw a small smile on Runi's face as she eyed him with something akin to respect.

When they arrived at his small house near the docks, he thanked the children again and told his mother quietly of what had just occurred. She was barely awake, but murmured to him quietly. "I'm proud of you. You did the right thing. You're more and more like your father every day."

"Thank you." Sinbad's piercing golden eyes shone with new determination.

Yunan brought him to a chair, and dressed his wounds in fresh bandages. Runi peeled the bandages he'd been using as armwraps, and disposed of them. When she returned, she helped Yunan disinfect the cuts that littered his arms and face.

"You didn't have to." Sinbad said quietly.

"It's part of my training." Runi muttered back. "Please refrain from bleeding on my cloak. It's expensive."

Something gave him a feeling he'd made a new friend. Sinbad smiled, because a powerful friend made an invincible ally.

Sinbad had a dream to change the world for the better, and people like her brought that dream one step closer to reality.

* * *

 **A/N: First of all, I'd like to thank the wonderful Madin456, a friend of mine, for beta reading this chapter and the chapters that will follow. I'd also like to note that Wanderer will be updated weekly, every Sunday. You can find both up-to-date and extra information about this story on my profile, in the 'Story Updates' section.**

 **Chapter 3 is coming soon! Keep an eye out for it. I've posted a snippet of it, titled 'Paradox', on this site. It's about Ja'far. If you're interested in reading more before next Sunday, check it out!  
**

 **If you have any constructive criticism to offer, please don't be afraid to offer it. I absolutely love hearing ways I can improve my writing.**

 **~Ember**


	3. Prelude to a Journey

" _Let there be no noise made, my gentle friends;_

 _Unless some dull and favourable hand_

 _Will whisper music to my weary spirit."_

 _~Henry IV_

* * *

 _Chapter Three_

 _Prelude to a Journey (in lands far, far away)_

 _Adagio._

 _(Pianissimo.)_

Ja'far sees the world in black and white.

Purity and depravity.

(He needs no shades of gray to determine his own category.)

Sometimes, they visit him. His latest kill ( _mission,_ they say, but it is no mission, for he is a tiger and they are a flea) holds haunting reminders that they will always remain.

aLwAyS. The word pulls at his very core, shaking his grasp on reality and causing him to slip, one painstaking finger at a time. They will always be there. He will always be a monster.

(Oh, yes. He knows what they whisper about him, the child with torn, bloodstained cloths and matted silver hair and deranged eyes. After a while, he learns, there is only so much you can take until you snap, break, or have heard so much that nothing affects you anymore.)

Ja'far is on the verge of the latter. He _wishes_ he were the latter, because to not care is so much easier, simpler, than caring. He still cares about _them._ They are the one thing he cannot stand, because they are the reason he keeps living and the reason he wishes so desperately to die.

His father had thrown himself onto his mother. Everything in his eyes, posture, and demeanor had screamed _monster, fear, hatred_ , but there was still something in him that pleaded: _Ja'far. My son. Please._

Ja'far slit along his trachea, inching down, bringing the knife upwards to dice his father's jaw in two. Many called him merciless, but even he gave painless deaths when he could. Such was the life of an assassin.

Child Ja'far appeared to have no emotion. No one felt the low, keening sound resonating deep within their hearts at the deaths of _them_ more than he did _,_ because they were good, pure, better than Ja'far could ever become.

Ja'far had killed his parents. He missed them every day. There was something psychotically deranged about those two sentences. They were contradictory. They were frightening.

All of this, everything he's done, is for Partevia's sake. If it hadn't been for the Partevian Empire, _they_ would still be alive. It is now, and only now that he realizes that he's sacrificed everything for an empire he cares naught for.

His prey stands no chance against his deadly blade. One slice, and his victim is dead. The ground lurches sickeningly beneath his feet as she flickers before his eyes, and suddenly it is his mother who slumps over in a pool of blood, life drained from her now glassy eyes.

Ja'far disposes of the body and leaves, reminding himself that he is not some child; he is an _assassin,_ and assassins are not supposed to feel attachments to their victims. Or emotion in general. To serve the empire is the greatest honor.

He wonders what his parents would think if they could see him now.

(May Partevia prevail.)

* * *

 _Andante._

 _(Mezzo Piano.)_

Yamuraiha is not as naïve as she seems.

She does not yet know the truth about the fifth district, but she knows enough about magic to know that Magnostadt's power comes from _somewhere_ , and Yamuraiha certainly has her suspicions about where and whom it comes from.

Yamuraiha also knows that her father, despite his open arms and grandfatherly smile, is no saint. He does things to people, to the goi, in his 'experiments'. He experiments with that which is taboo to most, and for no good reason. Yamuraiha knows this.

It scares her.

What if she's next? What will her father do to her? Yamuraiha's bare feet itch to run somewhere, _anywhere,_ far away where they can't hurt her. But Yamuraiha is smart. She is wise, at least for a nine year old. She is rational.

Yamuraiha will learn magic. She will become the most powerful magician the world has ever seen, and then she will face her father.

But for now, she smiles, the perfect daughter as her father beams at her.

"What do you think of Magnostadt at night, Yam-chan?"

"It's beautiful, Father! It's really nice."

It really is, though. That she can't deny.

(Yamuraiha does not know this, but the next time she hears those words, she'll be older. She'll know the truth then, about how Magnostadt's beauty came with a terrible price.

When she gives a faux, sugarsweet smile then, she'll have to bite her lip to keep from screaming.)

* * *

 _Allegretto._

 _(Mezzo Forte.)_

Sharrkan is not the ideal prince.

He is too earnest, too naïve to survive in this death trap of politics. He's eager to learn, but lacks the cunning edge needed to control the deadly chessboard of nations, to keep the nobles in check while maintaining fragile foreign relations.

There is, however, one thing he excels at.

Swordplay.

He masters royal swordplay by the age of seven. Now, foreign tutors are brought in to teach him the methods and secrets of true swordsmen, the best of the best. He holds talent in this area, but none in the rest. The king of Heliohapt recognizes this, though, and also recognizes that this child will grow up to be a valuable asset during times of war.

Sharrkan knows none of this. He's too busy watching his mother fawn over his half-brother, Armakan. Sharrkan has been told that only the first prince will receive such attention, but can't bring himself to resent his brother.

Despite his young age, Sharrkan is not blind to the cunning cruelty in his mother's eyes. He sees this, but still knows that _this is his mother,_ and wonders what it feels like to be hugged by her, sharp nails thrumming against his back like she does to his brother. But Sharrkan is ever the dutiful prince, and stands to the side like the obedient son he is.

(In a few years, all of this will change.)

* * *

 _Moderato._

 _(Mezzo Piano.)_

Dragul is young, but he is not naïve. Nor is he stupid.

He fights for his nation, masking his feelings behind façades of honor and glory. He is only fourteen, but has been promoted to commander of more than a hundred men. This comes as no surprise. Dragul, after all, is of a prestigious noble family.

He and his army of commoners— _commoners—_ have been commissioned to fight in the Dungeon, the very structure that has killed thousands of men. Dragul has been sent into a death trap. He knows this as well, and it comes as no surprise to him either.

He fights for Partevia, but most of all he fights for Serendine.

He cries on the inside when he sees her unhappy. He wants to eliminate every threat to her happiness, because to him her laugh is the most wonderful thing in the world. Why can't she see just how untrustworthy his brother is? Why can't she look past the pretty façade of marriage to the cruel, icy heart beneath?

 _Why do you care?_ A cynical voice from his subconscious asks him. _Do you love her?_

 _Do I love her?_

Dragul does not know. She loves him like a brother, and a younger brother at that. Dragul can't help but feel so utterly humiliated whenever she treats him like a child. He is not a child anymore. Dragul can take care of himself. But then again, so can she.

All he knows is that whenever it feels like the world is against him, she makes him feel like he _can,_ and gives him willpower to take on the impossible.

"Don't die down there, okay? I won't forgive you if you die." She says this sternly, but with a smile. Her tone is laced with concern and worry and sadness, and just knowing that she still cares for him is enough to send warmth blossoming through Dragul's chest.

Dragul will conquer the Dungeon. He will do it for his empire, to give glory to his brother, because he is a dutiful servant of Partevia.

 _For Serendine._

* * *

 _Lento._

 _(Piano.)_

Yunan does not want to part with his disciple. Not yet.

It is Yunan's duty to let fate run its course, but Yunan knows his young student better than anyone else. He knows that she clings to him for sanity, looks up to him. Yunan knows that Runi has grown, that she is not the scared little girl he found curled up behind a fruit vendor's stand in the dead of winter.

Yunan fears that leaving her on her own again will break her.

But Yunan does not control destiny. He nurtures it, gives its recipients a tiny push in the right direction before stepping back and watching them progress and grow. It's been too long since anyone has formed a true attachment to him, the way this child has.

This is a risk Yunan will have to take, because the Rukh tell him it is time.

"Take care of her," he whispers to the wind.

 _Take care of her._ The Rukh whisper back, an echo only he can hear.

In less than a week's time, Runi will have left, and Yunan will be gone.

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks again to Madin456 for beta reading this chapter. You rock!**

 **I made some new cover art for this story! Scroll up and click on the cover for a better look. It took a while to make, and I'm quite proud of the end result. The redhead with gray eyes at the top is Runi, by the way.**

 **If there's any constructive criticism you have to offer, please don't be afraid to offer it. I love hearing ways I can improve as a writer.**

 **Next chapter's when the action starts, so stay tuned!**

 **~Ember**


	4. Metamorphose

" _The only one who should decide which path to follow is yourself."_

 _~Zen Wistaria, Akagami no Shirayukihime_

* * *

 _Chapter Four_

 _Metamorphose_

* * *

The house began to take on a sickly stench, but Runi said nothing of it.

During the second day of their stay, Sinbad's mother, Esra, began to speak more softly, her skin taking on a deathly pallor. On the third day, she lay in bed, inhaling and exhaling slowly and quietly so no one would catch the wheezy death rattle her voice had caught on. That afternoon, she called Sinbad over, and the two talked, alone, quietly into the night.

When the fourth day dawned, Esra was dead.

The other villagers mourned softly, exchanging laments of grief and praying for her spirit in the afterlife. Only Sinbad remained silent and motionless, keeping vigil by her body.

Runi watched with a detached sort of interest how the light illuminated her hair and cast shadows across Esra's face. There were subtle wrinkles outlining her mouth, crinkling where her eyelashes met, fanning out from her lips. Esra looked older than ever, as if her weariness had finally caught up with her, but strangely at peace as she lay at rest beside her son.

The snow mage couldn't tear her eyes away. After what seemed like an eternity, gentle fingertips ghosted across her back, attempting to comfort her, but Runi barely felt it. A strange sort of numbness encased her body, sending gooseflesh up and down her skin. It was only after she'd shaken herself from the trance that Runi realized it was Yunan.

"Leave me alone." Her voice, dark and low, cut the silence like a knife.

Yunan's eyes were downcast. He sighed, clapped her on the shoulder gently and departed with a swirl of green robes.

For some strange reason, Runi felt even lonelier after he left.

* * *

Sometime later she fell asleep. Runi woke twice more during the night. The first, Sinbad still sat at Esra's side, ever vigilant. The second time, she heard him stand abruptly, and Runi was suddenly wide awake. Sinbad's footsteps, near silent, stopped at the door.

"We'll meet again, Runi. Don't worry! I can feel it." He said this with a quiet sort of optimism. Runi pondered this for a while, but her weary mindcould not make sense of it, and she fell asleep again.

When she awoke, it was late afternoon. The noonsun's light shone through, illuminating Esra's body, which was wrapped carefully in a blanket and placed off to the side. The floor was swept clean, and Sinbad and Yunan were nowhere to be found.

Runi blinked blearily, dragging herself to her feet and raking her fingers through her knotted hair. When had it last come in contact with a comb? She would have to fix that soon.

Trudging outside into the burning southern Partevian sun, Runi wrapped her cloak around herself tightly to shade her from the burning sun. She was unaffected by cold, but the flip side of that was that warmth was all the more painful. Maybe she'd convince Yunan to take them someplace delightfully chilly, after they left this village.

She found Yunan on the outskirts of the village, green robes billowing about. He stared off into the distance with the quiet wisdom of one who has seen all; an expression that always seemed to reinforce the curious mystery that was Yunan.

They stood together for a while, master and apprentice, before Runi broke the silence.

"He's gone." The girl looked at Yunan expectantly for confirmation. "Am I right?"

"Yes." The tired weariness in his eyes took her aback as he looked at her gently, the way a father teaching his child a lesson might. "Sinbad has his own destiny, and it is a great one. He has simply left to pursue it."

"So he didn't just run off and throw himself off a cliff."

"No." Yunan never had understood her dry sarcasm. "Runi, your destiny calls for you. You are at a crossroads, and it is time for us to part."

"Stop speaking in riddles! What on earth are you talking about?"

"Your destinies are intertwined, Runi."

Somewhere in his cryptic, maddeningly repetitive speech, there was a spark of understanding on Runi's part. "So we're going after him? Is that what you're saying?"

"Not 'we'. _You._ Your destiny calls for _you,_ and you only. It is time for you to choose a path to travel on your own."

"So you're leaving me here, and telling me to 'follow my destiny'." Runi's voice was slightly hysterical. "Is that it? Am I missing anything?"

"I detest this situation as much as you do." Yunan sighed. "Believe me. But I cannot stay with you forever. It is time for us to part."

"Okay." Runi took several deep breaths, visibly trying to calm herself. "Okay. Suppose we do split up. Where am I to go from here?"

"Wherever your heart tells you to go. Your feelings and instincts know best, especially in a situation like this. If you know not where to go, it is always fine to follow someone else's path."

Runi was practically seething now. "I think with my _mind,_ not my heart. _My mind_ does not believe in destiny. I write my own destiny. _I_ make decisions for myself."

"So be it." Yunan's weariness descended upon him again, and he seemed to be decades older. "I wish you luck, my spirited young pupil, but now I must go."

The magician clapped a hand onto her shoulder, and drew her into a hug. They embraced for a moment, master and pupil, before Yunan suddenly vanished into a flurry of Rukh.

"A magician always has his tricks." Runi murmured, allowing a stray Rukh to land on her finger. Her smile was bittersweet. "Isn't that what you told me?"

Runi then made a split second decision that would shape her life, as only young people can. She would find Sinbad, if only to escape the melancholy mood of this town. Then she would write her own destiny. She wasn't sure how, but she would.

 _Don't wander too far, you grief-stricken loon. I'm coming for you. Just you wait._

* * *

Sinbad stood at a crossroads.

Behind him stood Dragul and his army, powerless to stop him, silently daring him to proceed.

Before him, at the entrance to the Dungeon, stood Yunan in all his glory. "Follow your destiny, child." The magi's words echoed through Sinbad's mind, filling him with adrenaline.

"I know." Sinbad leaned forwards, powerful legs poised to run. A grin spread across his face, intense and mischievous and powerful. "I know!"

Sinbad ran, tossing his fears and doubts to the wind.

As he vanished beyond the dungeon doors, all was utterly silent. Dragul gave a roaring battle cry, and like a wave of destruction his army surged forth.

 _The calm before the storm._

* * *

Omake (or, what could have been):

(chapter one)

It was frigid tonight. The paths were frozen. It was a good thing she couldn't freeze to death, though. That would prove rather problematic, seeing as she had no place to go at the moment.

Piano music began to play in the background. A snowflake materialized in Runi's hand, and she let it drift away in the breeze. The young girl began to sing. _"The snow glows white on the mountain tonight, not a footprint to be seen…"_

(many snowflakes and an ice castle later)

" _LET IT GO!"_

(also chapter one)

"I see." The smile in his eyes faded, but Yunan's voice remained soft and gentle. "The winters can be brutal. I commend you for surviving."

Runi's gaze hardened and she slowly lowered the broth from her lips. The question hadn't been asked directly, but it was still implied. _How have you survived the cold?_

"Well…" Runi shrugged, and broke into song. _"The cold never bothered me anyway."_

(chapter two)

"Where are we going?" Runi asked.

Sinbad spread his arms, posing grandly. A magic carpet appeared out of nowhere, and Sinbad began to sing. _"I can show you the world…"_

(chapter four)

"Why did she die?" Runi whimpered.

"Well…" Yunan hesitated, before patting his young disciple on the head. "People are born. They live. And then they die. That's how the world works."

"But whyy?" Runi whined.

"It is for the Greater Good." Yunan replied.

Runi stared at him blankly. "What."

From beyond the fourth wall, Dumbledore and Grindelwald facepalmed.

* * *

 **A/N: Yeah. I just went there. I regret nothing.**

 **Yo, Madin456! Thanks for beta reading this chap! :D**

 **Hey, remember when I said I was gonna update every Sunday? Life happened. It's not exactly kind, you know. I'll try to keep up with my promise, but… um… no promises. O_o**

 **There will be a sequel to this! It takes place during the Magi series, and you can find more info on it on my profile page along with links to fanart. Check it out! It's coming up soon~!**

 **Edit 4/23/16: No, this isn't the last chapter! Sorry for that misconception. Trust me, this is only the beginning! Expect Chapter 5 this Sunday. I was just mentioning that the sequel will be posted sometime in the near future, while _Wanderer_ is still in progress. It won't give any spoilers for _Wanderer,_ so don't worry!**


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